Rain, Rain
by Enthusiastic Fish
Summary: A rather depressing oneshot, with a little uplift at the end. Tim has received the ultimate rejection...and now he's running in the rain.


**A/N:** Originally written April 2008. I went through a period where I had Tim getting painfully rejected over and over again. Most of those stories aren't really worth putting up anywhere. Poor guy. This was probably the most painful rejection he got...so thankfully, it's only a oneshot.

**Disclaimer:** I do not now, nor have I ever, owned NCIS. I am not now, nor will I ever, make money on my fanfiction.

* * *

**Rain, Rain**  
by Enthusiastic Fish

_Rain, rain, go away. Come again, another day._

The rain poured down, thundering harder than he'd ever heard it. He seemed to feel it in his bones. It couldn't dampen the pain in his head, in his heart. He thought that the agony was bad was Kate had died...but it had been nothing compared to this. At that moment, at least he'd had the rest of the team with him. They were all mourning with him. All of them. Now...he wasn't mourning a death...at least not a death of a person. He was mourning the death of all his dreams, his happiness. He could still see her in his head, walking away...leaving him forever.

He wasn't a runner. That was Ziva's territory. He wasn't dressed for running. He was still in the clothes he'd put on that morning. But he ran now, not for exercise, but to get away from the torment in his head. He could feel the rain soaking him from head to toe, ruining his leather jacket that he had bought to replace the one Abby had ruined. He could hear his mother's voice. _You'll catch your death!_

If only it were true! Death would be so much easier than this agony. Death would be easier to bear than watching her walk away, knowing that she'd always planned it that way. She had accepted everything he had said. She had lied with every breath she'd taken...every kiss. He had never thought it was really possible to lie that way. He had always seen kissing as something special, the mingling of people's souls. Obviously, he was wrong. She had taken his soul and spit on it. He had given her everything...not money, although she had taken that, too...he didn't care about that. He had given her all of himself. He had told her who he really was, the part of himself that he had always kept hidden from the rest of the world. He had told her all of it.

He could still remember the first time he'd seen her. They'd run into each other on the street..._accidentally_. They had hit it off. In less than a week, it had seemed as though they'd known each other for ages. The only other person he'd felt that way around was Abby. ...speaking of Abby, she'd be happy to find out that she'd been right. She would love to know that all the derision she'd heaped on him for his naivete was accurate. Yes, he'd tell her. He'd tell everyone and let them get all their shots out at him at once. They had all told him he was being foolish. How right they were. How right...

He felt a stitch in his side and looked around to see where he was. He'd just started running. He was at the Mall. That surprised him. He'd started out at his apartment...where she had laughed at him...where he had watched her walk out, after cleaning out his bank accounts. She'd even trashed his place, just because she had a key and she could. It wasn't identity theft. As she had said so eloquently, she had no desire to be Timothy McGee. This was a one-hit wonder. As she had known he would, he'd just stood there in shock and watched her leave. Then, he had found that there seemed to be nothing left of him in the apartment. His beloved typewriter was smashed in pieces...almost as many as his heart. His records...many of them had been broken. His books...his computer. He remembered asking her why...

That spurred him to run again. He'd been running for hours, it seemed...and still the rain fell. _Rain, rain go away. Come again another day,_ he said to himself. He remembered her answer.

_Why else would anyone show any interest in you, Tim? Do you think it's for your winning personality?_

His breath was loud in his ears. Harsh and pained. Physical pain to take the place of spiritual pain. That was fine with him. No tears yet. Those would come later, he was sure. At the moment, the pain was too great even for tears. He just had to accept the worthlessness of his life...and keep running until he found a reason to stop...

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Gibbs looked out the window enjoying the storm. Although he had bad memories associated with rain, he still loved it. Then, he noticed someone running up the street. He shook his head. Only crazy people like Ziva would run in this weather. He smiled to himself until the runner got closer and he saw that this person was not dressed in running clothes...in fact...

"McGee?"

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

He wasn't sure how long he could keep going. He felt as though he was going to be sick...and not just with self-loathing. He felt as though he was going to be genuinely sick. He'd lost track of where he was again. He didn't care. Nothing mattered.

"McGee!"

Tim heard his name. He didn't stop. No one who knew him could possibly have anything good to say. Why would they want to see him, talk to him? ...unless of course it was to say _I told you so_. That would be enough. No one he'd ever fallen for had really loved him. Love was always one-sided. He was someone to use and toss to the side. That was all.

"McGee! Stop!"

Why stop? He didn't have a good reason...so he kept right on going. _I'm like Forrest Gump...but even Forrest Gump found a girl in the end._ Over and over he could hear the words she had said to him. Over and over he could see the destruction she had so callously wrought in his life.

"McGee, what are you doing?"

The voice was right beside him.

"Running..." Tim gasped.

"Why?"

"There's nothing...else to do..."

"Stop, McGee."

"No."

"Yes, McGee. Stop." The owner of the voice put a hand on his arm. That light pressure holding him back was all it took. He didn't have the energy to actually keep moving. In fact, as soon as he stopped moving, his legs gave out and he sank to his knees. Then, his stomach promptly registered its protest. He was vaguely aware of the same hands keeping him from falling all the way to the ground. He turned his head to look at who had been speaking to him...Gibbs' face loomed in his vision for two seconds before his exhaustion caught up to him and shut down all his higher functions.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim opened his eyes again. He didn't feel any better inside, but breathing as an actual physical function wasn't so difficult.

"McGee what were you _doing_?"

Tim turned his head and realized that he was in Gibbs' house, lying, soaked, on Gibbs' couch.

"Boss? What am I doing here?"

"I was going to ask you that."

"I was running." And the reason for running came crashing over him again, drawing his face into an expression of pain. "I want run more." He swung his legs over the edge of the couch and started to stand, but his legs screamed in protest...louder than his broken heart.

"I don't think so, McGee."

"Please, Boss, just let me go," Tim begged. The pain was swelling up in his chest. The pain, the humiliation, the heartache. "Let me run."

"I don't think your body is going to let you run, McGee," Gibbs said, smiling a little.

"I just...I don't want to think. I don't to...be me right now."

The smile faded. "What _happened_, Tim?"

Tim smiled and the ache made him want to scream. "Everyone was right, you know. They were all right...why should I have expected any different? I'm never right. I'm such an idiot, Boss."

"She left you?"

"I wish that was all she'd done." Tim tried to stand again. This time, he made it upright. He would have staggered to the door again, but Gibbs stopped him. "Boss, let me go."

"No, Tim. I won't do that. What did she do?"

"She's destroyed me, Boss. That's what she's done. It was all...it was an act, a con." Tim tried to walk away again, but Gibbs still held him back. "She's...she's cleaned me out and destroyed everything important."

"What?"

"She trashed my apartment, stole my money..." Tim laughed to keep the tears away. "...broke my heart. Tony, Ziva and Abby will be so happy to know that they were right. I sure can pick 'em, Boss. I have a great track record. Abby, who didn't want what I wanted. The cheerleader who couldn't understand that I had a job. The sociopathic rich girl and now a con artist who finds my existence so abhorrent that she can't even be bothered to steal my identity." He laughed again. "I think I want to run some more, Boss." Tim pulled his arm out of Gibbs' grasp and walked to the door. He opened it and stepped onto the porch. The ache swelled and made him catch his breath. He sank down onto the steps. He finally started to cry. The rain dripped off the roof onto his head. He didn't care. He barely noticed when Gibbs sat down beside him.

"Tim. It's not the end of the world."

"No. It's not. I only wish it was." Tim leaned forward and continued to cry. "I asked her why. Do you know what she said?"

"What did she say?"

"'Why else would anyone show any interest in you, Tim? Do you think it's for your winning personality?'" Tim laughed through his tears. "She's...she's right you know. No one ever did really have any interest...not for me. People liked having access to what I can do...sometimes, they might even tolerate me. That's all."

"That's not true, Tim."

"Sure, it is." Tim felt the revulsion. He remembered seeing it in her eyes. The derision in the eyes of his teammates. "No one cares. There's just me. Why did I ever think that it could be any other way? I never tried to have a lot of friends before. I just went through my life and was okay with what I had. Why did I try to change that? There's nothing good that comes from trying."

"Tim, stop that." Gibbs slapped him gently.

"I shouldn't have tried. After Abby rejected me, I should have realized. I have nothing to offer." The ache was so bad that Tim wondered if people could really die of a broken heart. "Can I use your phone, Boss? I can call a cab, get out of your way."

"No."

Tim lifted his head. "What?"

"No. You're in no state to be by yourself tonight. You can sleep on my couch. Besides, didn't you say your apartment was trashed?"

"Yes...but she didn't break the bed, although I can't think why...maybe she couldn't bring herself to touch it again."

"Tim...don't even _think_ that. She manipulated you. That makes her beneath your notice."

"What? Fifth time's the charm? I've struck out every other time...as a matter of fact, if this _was_ baseball, the coach wouldn't even bother putting me on the roster."

"_Stop it_, Tim! Just stop." Gibbs pulled Tim up to standing again. He looked at Gibbs.

"She broke my typewriter, my records, my books." Tim's face crumpled. "Why?"

"Because she's a terrible person." Gibbs directed Tim back into the house.

"I'd rather just run. I don't have think when I'm running."

"You don't have to think while you're sleeping either."

Tim shivered. Gibbs sighed.

"Besides, if you go back outside, you'll probably die of hypothermia or something else."

"That might be nice."

Gibbs rolled his eyes and directed Tim to the bathroom. "I'm not loaning you my clothes. So get in there and I'll dry the ones you have on." He threw a few blankets onto the floor.

Tim did as he said. It only took about half an hour before Tim was on the couch asleep. Gibbs watched him and shook his head. She had hurt him all right. He looked at his watch and saw that it was only about ten. No one else would be in bed yet. He pulled out his phone and made some calls.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Man," Abby complained. "Why did she have to be so thorough? I mean, when you said trashed I thought maybe a couple of broken plates or she'd unalphabetized Tim's books...not this..." She waved her hand around at the destruction.

Gibbs shrugged. It was after midnight now. Abby had dropped everything when he had called her to help clean up Tim's apartment...as had Tony and Ziva. That, however, didn't keep them from grumbling a little bit about it.

"Probie sure can pick 'em, can't he," Tony said, little realizing that he was quoting Tim's own words from just a couple of hours ago.

"Don't blame him for this," Gibbs said sharply. "This is not his fault."

Tony looked surprised. "Of course, it isn't. I never said it was."

"McGee feels bad enough about all this without having those kinds of comments thrown around, DiNozzo," Gibbs warned.

"That bad?" Tony asked.

"Worse."

"Okay, Boss."

Ziva stood up from her cramped position on the floor. "Here is the list of the records she broke. I know of a record store nearby. I do not think they will be open now, but I do know that they open early in the morning. I shall see if they have replacements."

Abby looked around. "This is so...mean! I mean, yeah, sure, Tim gets uptight about things, but this? There's no reason to do all this."

Gibbs nodded in agreement. "I informed Metro police. They're on the lookout for her...not that it will help McGee much, but I'll feel better."

"Would they like any assistance?" Ziva asked. "I would love to help them interrogate her."

"Rein 'em in, David," Tony said. "Let's just clean up Probie's loser apartment and get on with it." He caught Gibbs' gaze and amended, "I mean, McGee's oh-so-perfectly-suited-to-his-personality apartment."

"Did she actually ruin any of the books or did she just pull them off the shelves?" Abby asked.

...and the clean up continued...

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim woke up the next morning and saw that it was still raining. It was scarcely brighter than it had been the night before. He looked around and realized that Gibbs wasn't home. He wondered what to do.

"Boss?" he called hesitantly. The clock on the wall told him that it was after nine. He'd slept in. _Lazy,_ he berated himself. "Boss?" He walked around the house, but Gibbs was definitely not there. He looked out at the rain again. "Rain, rain, go away. Come again another day," he whispered.

He then walked back to the couch and sat down again. The ache was still there, but it was duller, not so sharp that he felt like he'd swallowed shards of glass. He should probably just call a cab and go back to his apartment...see if there was anything that could be salvaged. Just as he had decided that and stood to look for a phone, he heard a car pull into the driveway. He wasn't sure he wanted to see Gibbs again. Sure, he'd been nice last night, but Tim should be over it by now. It was only one moment. It wasn't important. That's surely what Gibbs would be thinking and Tim was just deciding that he could actually breathe without thinking that his heart was going to fall to pieces again.

"McGee! Good, you're up. Let's go."

"Where, Boss?"

"Your apartment. I'm assuming you don't want to _run_ back there."

"No." No, he didn't want that. He couldn't tell what Gibbs was thinking. "Just let me get my shoes." They were dry, for a wonder. Tim pulled them on and then followed Gibbs back out into the rain. It didn't seem quite as dark as it had before.

The drive over was silent. Neither one tried to break the silence. Tim was wondering just how he'd tell everyone at NCIS. Maybe an email would be best. Then, they could read it and all know at once. Maybe by the time they saw him, they'd have got all the laughter out of their system and they could just tease him a little bit for his stupidity.

"McGee! We're here."

Tim blinked and looked out of the window. Sure enough. They were.

"Thanks for the ride, Boss...and for the couch last night," Tim said and then got out of the car. He was surprised when Gibbs got out as well. Tim walked to his apartment door and was surprised to see it open. He was sure that he had closed it when he'd left. He stepped inside, dreading the ruin of his apartment, symbolic of the ruin of his life.

...he stopped short in the doorway.

"Gibbs! We're not done yet!" Abby chided. "I told you we needed at least another hour!"

Abby had a broom in her hand. Tony and Ziva were just finishing picking up all his books. His typewriter (still broken) had been placed back on the writing desk.

"Morning, Tim!" she said brightly.

Tim couldn't speak. He didn't know what to say. He took another step into the room...and then another.

"You...you guys...you didn't have to," Tim said, feeling the tears coming again.

"Yeah, we did, McGee," Tony said, poking his head around the bookshelf. "We're your friends. Of course, we had to."

Tim closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He let it out slowly and felt his lower lip trembling. He felt two pairs of arms around him.

"I am so sorry, McGee," Ziva said quietly. "I wish we had been wrong."

"We _were_ wrong," Abby said. "We should never have said all those things...and we never thought she'd be a criminal."

Tim felt the tears on his cheeks. He opened his eyes as the two of them let him go. He walked slowly toward the writing desk. He touched his typewriter regretfully.

"Hey, McGee, sorry that we couldn't fix the typewriter. I know nothing about that stuff. I hope you don't have to trash it."

"I...I'm not sure," Tim said, still crying a little. "Nothing's ever as good after being broken."

Tony put a hand on his shoulder and squeeze it tightly. "It can be, Probie...especially when you don't have to do it alone."

Tim smiled. Then...just for a moment, there was a ray of sunshine splashing across the writing desk. It last a short time, but it was there. Tim smiled and touched the broken typewriter. The rain was ending. Maybe he _could_ fix the typewriter. ...maybe he could fix himself as well.

He looked up at Tony and then at Gibbs and Abby and Ziva.

"Maybe it can." His mouth twisted for a moment. "As long as I'm not doing it alone."

"You won't be. Promise," Abby said.

"Thanks. Really." He looked out the window again and was rewarded with another ray of sunshine.

_Rain, rain, go away. Come again, another day._

FINIS!


End file.
